


Through the Curtain

by IDustRoseI



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Broken Amity, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I really want you to hate amity's parents huh, I'm Sorry, Luz tries to comfort Amity, Luz will fix her right up don't worry, Parental Abuse, Twisted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26474395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IDustRoseI/pseuds/IDustRoseI
Summary: The Blights were perfect, but what happens when a closer inside look is taken.If you were wondering about the kind of stuff I usually write... this is a pretty good example.Yeah I'm kinda messed up.PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS
Relationships: Amity Blight/Luz Noceda
Comments: 8
Kudos: 243





	Through the Curtain

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry

Amity cried, more than she ever had in a long time. She was knelt on the ground, head tilted low and her eyes closed tightly. She thought she would have been used to this, used to the wear and tear of being a Blight - used to the abuse her family name brought her - she was wrong. Her back stung and her eyes were red from sobbing; bruises littered her arms and legs, ranging from barely visible to deep purples and blues. 

She clutched the cloth of her tattered shirt, fingers falling through the holes scattered throughout the clothing. She couldn't stop sobbing, her eyes refused to cease the torrent of water descending from her closed eyes. Her salty tears seeped into the bleeding scratches of her face, mixing the blood with water and letting it run down her bruised neck.

Her father stood above her, leather belt loosely held in his masculine hand. He didn't smile, nor did he frown, his expression remained neutral throughout his daughter's suffering.

'Blights do not show weakness.' This one phrase echoed in her mind. It was the only thing her parents seemed to say these days, like a broken record, or a parrot that never learned new words.

'Blights do not cry,' the voice echoed in her head, mocking her. 

'Blights are perfect - you must be perfect,' Amity screamed, clutching her head in anguish. Her father stepped out of the room, closing and locking it with an audible click. At that moment she didn't have the energy to care, her mind only focused on the pain from marks tracing her back.

Amity continued to scream, her salty tears trickled into her cuts and over her bruises. She was broken - and she knew no one could change that. 

\------------------------

Fast forward a couple months, Amity had learned not to say anything about her home's exploits - afraid of what would happen.

It was exceptionally challenging to hide the numerous cuts and bruises dirtying her limbs; although, she learned to deal with it. Even if it meant wearing sweaters in humid 100-degree weather. 

The pain was usually bearable unless hit by an outside source. Even the wind gently pushing past her hurt. She wanted to say something, anything, to point someone to the knowledge of her torture. 

However, self-constraint was another thing she was taught since birth. She was aware of the consequences if she were to speak about her home life, she didn't want to end up like her older siblings had.

Amity cried, falling to her elbows and knees, letting the blood-stained tears taint the perfect white carpet. When would the pain stop? Would it ever? She had no idea, no one could answer her.  
\-----------------------------------

It had felt like forever since she had started weepings, now it was pitch black outside and her elbows and knees hurt from placing so much pressure on the joints. 

Her eyes were sealed closed by dried tears and her breathing was still ragged, yet lacking the hiccups and wails from before.

Slowly, she rose to her feet, wincing slightly when a mark would stretch uncomfortably. She was able to stand - surprisingly - with the help of the redwood desk so flawlessly placed in her domain.

Her breath shuddered as she slowly limped towards her soft bed. She was too exhausted to change out of her rags, opting to fall down on the bed and completely forget about the day's events.

However, sleep did not come easy. Her father had at least been nice enough to lead the punishment away from her stomach so that she'd at least have one side to sleep on. Even so, the covers would brush against her marks or bruises, waking her from periods of sleep that never evolved. 

It was too much, not just the physical pain but the emotional too. She turned her head to the left, getting blood on her flawless white pillow. She stared at her hand, the cuts and bruises stopped at the edge of her wrist, where most of her long-sleeved sweaters ended.

She clutched the fist closed, letting it fall back on the mattress and letting tears brim from her eyes. She choked down a sob, deciding that now wasn't the time. 

In one less effort to sleep, Amity took the covers off, leaving her scrawny body exposed to the cold room. She didn't care much now, the only thought process she had was getting some sleep. 

Thankfully, this method worked, and soon she drifted off into as peaceful of a sleep as she could get that night.  
\------------------------

The next morning was exceptionally bright, the sunlight searing through the thin curtains draped over Amity's windows. 

She groaned, lifting her face from her pillow and wiping the drool from her lip. 

She flexed her shoulder muscles, reaching back to squeeze them before recoiling her hand in anguish. 

'Oh right,' she thought, getting up from her bed slowly and making her way toward her closet. The tattered t-shirt she wore was unsalvageable, the very stitching itself gone from the multiple holes. 

Her shorts weren't in much better condition, but definitely able to be fixed up with enough work. She quickly got undressed., making sure to not bump any of the scratches on her back. 

She picked out her school uniform, the pink leggings and sleeves covered by a pencil skirt dress and a hoodie draped over. 

The outfit was quite tight, it stuck to her skin, constantly poking at her injuries. The day after her punishments were always the worst, seeing as they were still healing and any sort of physical contact would have her doubling over in pain. 

Still, she learned to take it, knowing that her parents only wanted what was best for her. Sure, it hurt - it hurt a lot - but Amity knew that her parents only did this for conditioning. 

Amity plastered a fake smile across her chapped lips, cleaning up the rest of the blood with a mirror and placing a single bandage on one very noticeable mark. 

She grabbed her books and bookbag, making sure everything was packed and ready. Sadly, most of her scars were on her back and shoulder, meaning she would need to deal with the pain during the walk to school. 

Amity finished getting ready before unlocking her door and heading down the stairs. A Blight walked with grace, with a purpose. This was a little harder to do as Amity had a large bruise on her left calf, making any and all pressure put on it extremely painful. 

Not like she had a choice, her parents didn't care if she was hurt she still needed good manners. And good manners she had, taking care in every light step down the porcelain marble staircase. 

Her posture was rigid straight, her shoulders back and her head held high - like a Blight.

"There you are, Amity!" Her mother exclaimed, not an ounce of actual endearment in her voice. 

"You're due home by 5pm today, any later and you won't eat anything tonight. Understood?" Her mother stated, scrolling through her scroll. 

"Yes, mother," Amity responded, her face stoic and her voice not wavering at all.

"Good," she responded, "Now start heading to school." Amity's mother waved her off, without a loving goodbye. Not that she ever did those. 

Amity's posture remained straight until the front door closed, where she could finally relax her shoulders and breath in deeply. 

The bag on her shoulders stung her back like crazy, not to mention the straps digging into the wounds on her shoulders. It was too early to cry, even though Amity was on the verge of doing so. 

\----------

The walk to school hadn't been too terrible. The only hiccup was when her bag had dug painfully into a reasonably deep gouge on her shoulder. She had doubled over in pain and dropped most of her items.   
Thankfully no one had been around to see, or else she would have to answer the barrage of questions. 

Amity needed to grab her books before heading to her abominations class. 

School was one of the only things she actually looked forward to. Her friends always had a way of cheering her up, especially after a particularly brutal beating. One in particular was a human girl named Luz.

The girl was very optimistic, something that just happened to rub off on Amity. Honestly, the only reason Amity hadn't surrendered was because of Luz's affection for her. 

Amity liked her too. 

She grabbed her books and sped walk to abominations, excited for Luz to cheer her up after the terrible night she had. 

The fake smile was still plastered on her face, but part of it had melted away to reveal a genuine smile. Just seeing Luz's beaming face and seeing her wave Amity over was enough for her to forget about her problems - almost. 

Amity had gotten too optimistic, she got careless. She had done something rather stupid in class, which elicited a small pat on the back from Luz. 

That one action - just the one - was the tipping point of her whole career. She screamed in pain at the contact, holding her back at the place Luz had barely struck. 

Said girl started to panic, looking around for someone to help. Tears threatened to spill from Amity's eyes, and the only thing she could think of doing was getting up and running to the nearest bathroom - and that she did. 

She stood up abruptly and sped out the door, not caring for the teacher's protests. 

She ran far, far away from the class. To the farthest bathroom, one Luz surely would not check.

Amity shut the door and ran into one of the stalls, closing it and turning towards the door. She curled up into a ball on the dirty floor, ready to burst. 

Her uniform itched the scratches on her back painfully, yet she was unable to do anything about it.

Her crying stopped when she heard the bathroom door creak open - small uncertain footsteps following.

"Amity?" The voice was familiar, caring, and kind. Something still unfamiliar to the girl. 

"Amity?" The voice called again, getting closer to the stall she was in. 

Luz went to checking under the stalls, looking for a certain green-haired witch. 

Luz opened each stall until she reached the very last one. The sight broke her, seeing the curled up girl of her dreams, sobbing her eyes out.

She wanted to hug the girl, but Amity's earlier reaction to Luz's interaction remained plastered in her head. 

One more she repeated the girls' name, before moving to lift the shirt covering Amity's back.

Luz gasped, letting the cloth drape back down onto the scarred, pink flesh. 

"Amity, please turn around." Amity did not respond, only burying her head deeper in her arms. Luz got closer, whispering into Amity's ear lovingly. 

"You can tell me, you can trust me," Luz whispered, rubbing Amity's hand. 

Amity's breath shook. She raised her head slightly to look into Luz's soft smile. The sight made Amity start crying, who then turned around and hugged Luz. Luz hugged back, careful as to not press on her back too much. 

They were contempt like that, neither wanting to say anything to each other. 

And for the first time in a long while, Amity felt loved. A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips - as she nuzzled into her savior's shoulder.


End file.
